


Touch My Mouth, Hold My Tongue

by cybergirl614



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amnesiac Dean, BAMF Castiel, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Crack Treated Seriously, Dean is In Over His Head, Dean is a Little Shit, Foe Yay, Forbidden Love, I have a real problem here, I know, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, M/M, Post-Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising, Power Imbalance, Relationship(s), Self-Denial, Slash, Songfic, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, because I have a plague of plot bunnies, broken crown, but not for long, for now it's, not sure what to rate?, possibly a series, possibly crack, yet another
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 23:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergirl614/pseuds/cybergirl614
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Castiel hadn't just left after telling Dean "We have work for you"?    What if Dean spoke up, provoked Castiel?  A little ambiguously foe-yay fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch My Mouth, Hold My Tongue

**Author's Note:**

> Even if you're not looking for it in that scene (when Dean first meets Castiel in the barn) it screams in your face. I was even struck by it when I saw the episode the first time, and I didn't even ship it then. This short piece is just a little fun with what *might* have happened while Bobby was out.

 

* * *

 

 

_Touch my mouth and hold my tongue,_

_I'll never be your chosen one..._

 

**_Broken Crown, Mumford and Sons_ **

 

* * *

 

 

The mysterious man, angel, whatever he was, that Castiel, was turning away to go, his words still ringing in Dean’s ears—“ _We have work for you_ …”

Castiel was walking away as if to leave, but Dean for some unearthly reason had the dubious desire to speak up.  

 

“You think I'm your bitch, don’t you?” He called, his question more a challenge. Whatever could be said of him, he never backed down from a fight, even ones with a nigh invulnerable foe. Maybe it was stupid, but he’d done it now… 

 

Castiel had turned back around, his intense blue eyes searing light lightening in Dean’s blood all over again. God.  Who _was_ he?

 “My bitch?  No.” Castiel replied, then added, “Heaven’s bitch? Yes.”

 He looked confused as Dean scoffed at that.

 

“What? You  really think there’s another way out?” Castiel asked, his head tilting inquisitively.

 

“There’s always another way out,” Dean replied flippantly, shrugging as if it was nothing but discussing the outcome of some ballgame.  Like it didn’t matter.

 

“What if I told you there is none? Because there truly is none—“ Castiel began, but Dean was rushing up to him now, throwing all his weight into the punch he threw at the angel’s jaw.  

 

Dean nearly cried out when his hand contacted the angel’s jaw.  Castiel’s head snapped to the side receiving the blow, but he seemed otherwise unfazed, regarding Dean with a mildly irritated look that still broiled that impeccable sensation under his skin.    Dean shook his bruised fist out trying not to let on just how badly it hurt.  When he looked up he noticed he blood oozing out of the cuts on the angel’s jaw, but Castiel didn’t falter.

 

“What the fuck are you?!”  Dean shouted, out of frustration rhetorically begging an answer that made any damn sense at all.

 

“You know this, Dean, I am an angel of the Lord.” Castiel replied shrewdly.

 

“Yeah I got that the first time.”   Dean grumbled, looking furtively at his hand.  

 

Then…fuck.  Castiel was reaching for his forehead, a quiet warmth passing through his body as the pain in his hand disappeared.   Dean already hated him for being there.   Now…what had he done to him?  

 

“What the fuck did you do?”   Dean snapped, irrational anger surging inside him at the strange changes the angel was making in him already. 

 

“I healed you. You injured your hand in striking me, and…”  Castiel trailed off with a curious look he sent Dean’s way. 

 

“You wanted to be hurt,” Castiel observed shrewdly.   “You don’t think you deserve a second chance, much less the chance to live without pain.”  

“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,”   Dean snarled, but Castiel grabbed his shoulders when he was about to move away, locking him in place, holding him tightly.  Dean could have fought back, he realized, but he didn’t bother, he stood, staring into the angel’s face, a strange mixture of rage, terror, and awe overcoming him.   His gaze was riveting as he watched Dean with a condescension that would have been enraging if it wasn’t so perfectly understanding. And that, that scared Dean more than anything.  He _knew._

 

“Don’t I, though?”   The angel demanded.

Castiel regarded him cooly for a moment before he leaned in, well beyond invading Dean’s personal space, still heading straight for him as if he was about to—he passed the invisible threshold that would normally be considered range for fighting, and just kept going.  His lips unexpectedly met Dean’s, provoking a gasp from the hunter.  

 The angel sucked hungrily at Dean’s lips, his tongue prying Dean’s open, begging entrance, which Dean grudgingly allowed, still so floored he had little recourse but to take it.  Castiel could have as soon ripped him in two with his bare hands as pursued this course of action; Dean was helpless, and that sense of vulnerability tingled inside him, foreign and alluring and dangerous.   So suddenly he found himself kissing back, sucking the taste of the angel’s mouth into his own, beginning to realize he liked it, his hands creeping over the shoulders of the angel’s rumpled trench coat, pulling at his hair—then Castiel was pulling back, leaving Dean feeling ridiculously empty as he broke it off.   

 

He pushed Dean back a few stumbling steps until he was against the wall behind them, the rough metal of the barn digging into his back. 

 

“Wh—what the hell was that?!” Dean snapped, finding his voice as his breath returned to him.

 

“You are not mine, you are Heaven’s,” Castiel said, his hands pinioning Dean in place still.   “You will do whatever is commanded of you. As will I…”  There was some reservation in the last, some self-chastisement that Dean caught in the inflection. 

 

“Dunno ‘bout you, Feathers, but I won’t. I don’t give a shit what you think, what the fuck you think you'll do—“

 

Castiel had him pinned to the wall, increasing the force he exerted to a painful level. “You will do as I say. Or you shall bear the consequences.”

 

Then he was gone, and Dean was left reeling, his head spinning as Bobby stirred on the floor. Franticness was apparent in the older hunter's movements as he thrashed about searching for his gun, looking for a foe that had just departed.   Dean groaned, going to crouch on the floor beside him.

 

“Bobby….don’t bother.  He’s gone…”

“Who was that? That wasn’t—“  

“Castiel…” Dean snorted.    As much as he hated himself for it, he couldn't get those eyes out of his head, the taste of him, or the feeling of the heat of his impossibly strong body, impervious to Dean’s worst.  He had plucked out the knife like it was a tiny thorn and tossed it aside, kept marching on through a hail of bullets, kept staring at Dean like he was looking right into his soul. _Fuck_.   Those _eyes_ , and those _wings_ …  

 

Dean tried to suffocate the desire that rose inside him, but he already could tell it was a losing battle. So much a losing battle. He might not admit it to himself now, but he'd do whatever that angel told him, and moreover, he’d _enjoy_ it.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure: The title and opening lyric lines are from Broken Crown by Mumford and Sons. The idea started spinning around upon hearing How The Mighty Fall by Fall Out Boy and got the idea of BAMF Cas and Dean going, and then Broken Crown filled in the rest. I know, I have a problem with that. Songfics... There's a great (ambiguously Destiel) songvid on Youtube of Broken Crown although it's centered on the Mark. I heard the song and went a different direction...obviously, since this is Lazarus Rising and not The Prisoner. 
> 
> This is by far the first time I've written belligerent sexual tension. I kept flashing to the Buffy scene where she and (Spike is it?) go at it with the house coming down around them, going for that vibe. Feel free to lemme know how I did!


End file.
